Wanted
by MagicPotatoes
Summary: Jack Sparrow and Jane Thawn are long lost friends. Jane, trapped in a cursed life walking a thin line between land and sea. Sparrow a youngster roaming the docks of the Caribbean. Reunited purely by chance, this fanfic is a collection of short stories detailing their epic adventures, and finally their thrilling courtship. Takes place before the barf-fest that is the 4th movie
1. Prologue

He'd taken one step into the room; then he froze. His gaze spotted her, cowering, up against the wall, as the boat swayed softly on the ocean current. Warmth spread through her, at that look, a look of hunger, lust, something she had never seen in those dark brown eyes. A flush of heat ran across her flesh. She wanted to blush, to hide, to slap him, so many things and yet she couldn't break that gaze. There was a pull. Her body suddenly longed for him, for his touch. To feel that spark that she had not felt. Or at least, never this strong. The look of complete earnest said he was under that same unnamed influence, and so they each allowed themselves to be drawn together.

He approached with a heavy tred, the brief crossing of that space seemed to span a lifetime, each second felt like an eternity, as her body burned for him, hungry for the heat of his lips against hers. She would not withdraw from him like she had done so many times before. She would not run, hit, shove, or talk herself out of this. Due to the simple fact that, she couldn't. She felt an overwhelming sense of security in his presence and he also. A luxury that she had been deprived of for what felt like a lifetime. Only a few inches separated them now. Her vision seemed to blur, and she couldn't help but swoon a little. Perhaps it was the rocking of the ship, or perhaps she was just feeling light-headed.

She gripped the wooden infrastructure behind her for support. His eyes glistened as he regarded her with a look of awe, his lip trembling softly, his breath warm against her cheeks. He'd raised his hand to help steady her, but hesitated, almost afraid to touch her. Afraid that she would disintegrate before his eyes. She wanted so desperately for him to touch her, to feel that spark. He seemed to stare at his hand, as if he were having an internal battle over the decision. Finally it became clear what his choice was. His resistance melted away in almost an instant, and in one fluid motion, he brushed his hand against her cheek, entwining his fingers in her rich ginger locks, embracing her and at last, their lips met in a soft warm kiss.

She could no longer hold back either, returning his gesture with an equal combination of tenderness and intensity. His heart began beating hard within his chest, as he was pressed up against the warmth of her own chest. He cupped her face whilst her hands rested on his shoulder, electricity flowing through their blood due to the excitement of the kiss. It felt pure, alive, buzzing; it was bliss.

But suddenly, there came a darkness emerging from the shadows that seemed to swarm and bar their vision of each other. When she opened her eyes, she saw herself kissing a monster. A creature with a pockmarked face, vacant eyes, and a malevolent grin with a lashing tongue. She recoiled instantly from the sight, trailing blood and mucus from her mouth. The ship seemed to teeter more violently on the water, sending her crashing across the room as the demonic being stood over her limp body. She tried to scamper away but her legs held fast. They seemed to be numb. She looked down and found her feet were crushed beneath a stone chest. The creature seemed to have control over the growing black mist, casting it over her body. She could do nothing but cough and choke, clawing away from the cloying sense that came with the mist. She felt light-headed again but this time not from lust. The mist around her thickened, blocking her vision. Her eyes stung. She could feel the thick blanket of mist pressing down on her, suffocating her. Her heartbeat was going... going... gone.

Jane awoke shaking.


	2. Chapter 1

Her skin felt dry and crisp, her blood boiling in her veins. It took a few moments for Jane to calm her wildly thumping heart. Her bony wrists tugged at the metal cuffs encasing them, her body slumped against the cold stone walls. Tendrils of soft moonlight bathed her cell. Her dark teal eyes glanced up at the small patch of night through the window at the top of her tiny cell. That tiny blotch of sky was all she could see of the world. The little rectangular sector was littered with bright stars so distant. Jane could feel the trembling in her lips, her throat struggling to hold back a rising sob. Her chest felt as if it weighed a tonne, her body sagging forward, as the hot rusty metal bit down into her skin. Her battered legs could do nothing to support her body. They had hung almost limp, cold and numb in the darkness of her private hell.

Memories flooded her brain, flittering across her mind incoherently in a racket; disturbing her once calm thoughts. Her spirit was in torment amidst this tempest. The ocean. Sea. Her oldest and only true friend. She yearned to touch it, to run her webbed fingers across the smooth surface, to dive beneath the depths and hide in the darkness. A distant clatter of metal made her lift her head up, tears trickling down her pale freckled face. She gave a shiver at what she saw.

A young commodore it seemed, dressed in the accustomed grey wig adorned with its curls and fickle ribbons. Cloaked in a navy blue suit with accents of gold and bronze twine, with a black feathered hat, matching leather boots and gloves. A sturdy sword sat at his hip. The so called gentleman removed his hat, a smirk plastered on his sculpted chin, small grey eyes sparkling with either malice or insanity, beneath a strong brown brow and narrow pointed nose. Her eyes turned cold, wide with a feral fear as they peered up at him. There came a rattling of keys from a cloaked figure, behind that familiar face. She knew that creature too well. Commodore O'Dea.

The leech. She felt her teeth clenched so hard she thought they might crack, her lips curling back in a snarl. She gripped her chains, her eyes never leaving O'Dea. He was a snake. Her skin crawled at the very sight of that petulant smirk. Her swollen stomach gurgled and groaned as he steadily crossed the short space within the cell. Amusement was in his eyes as he stood, beckoning his servant closer. Jane wanted to hiss and claw the skin from his face. As his follower approached with the keys and began freeing her from the grip of the cuffs, she began to entertain the thought, all the while forcing any trace of rage or fear from her expression. But she could not wipe that blazing anger from her eyes, holding his gaze with an ice cold glare. It was all she could do. She would not become the animal they thought she was. Yes, she was different. But that did not condone what they had done to her. What they had reduced her to. Although faintly in the back of her mind, she hoped. That this time, O'Dea would show some sign of humanity. Some level of mercy perhaps.

However, the rest of her senses reminded her that he had no reason to show her any mercy. Not after the crimes she had committed. She had tried to appeal to him, to his emotions. But it seemed he was far from caring. The man obviously enjoyed doing this to her. Inflicting pain. The numerous bruises and burns that marred her skin were enough evidence of that. Her battered broken limbs that were now dragged along behind her, as O'Dea tugged her along by her hair down the corridors.

The following hours were yet another draining replay of every night since she'd been imprisoned here. Beatings. Burns. Humiliation at her sullied state had long since evaded her senses. It was during these long sessions that she became a detached empty husk. Jane tried with all her might to forbid herself weakness. She would never succumb to whatever sickeningly twisted would-be charm this creature held. If any. She sincerely doubted that this _man_ had a soul. Of course, no one would suspect the Commodore of fault. But her? The demon of the depths? The half-bred impure immortal? As if being cut-off from her natural habitat wasn't torture enough.

Worse still, she could still smell the tantalizing salt spray of the sea. She could hear the screech of the gulls overhead, feel the vibration of the thundering waves as they lapped at the base of the cliff. The cliff that held this fort – this cliff that held her prisoner.

She clutched at these simplistic thoughts; although they were a bittersweet tease, the thought of being free was one of the few things that distracted her from the intense pains he inflicted on her. Today, O'Dea had decided to experiment in nail-plucking. Eyes squeezed shut as she braced herself for the blood-pounding rip, whilst her teeth crunched down into the rotten rag that muffled her screams. There had been an occasion where O'Dea had been careless, a good two years ago when Jane had first arrived. He'd foolishly forgotten to gag her. Back when Jane was determined to not put up with this demeaning punishment.

She was aware of the crimes she committed. Nothing he or anyone did could ever make her regret them. She only had one thing she wished to redeem and yet that was impossible. A personal atrocity that even someone as heartless as herself could not block out. She thought about it everyday. That mistake... That wound, still stung. Even after living a thousand lifetimes, she was certain she'd never forget it. Nor forgive herself for it. She supposed that this constant torture was a viable punishment, albeit a pointlessly degrading one.

Once O'Dea had exhausted himself, he dismissed her, declaring his "playtime" to be over. She was immediately bound by a pair of shackles as soon as she emerged from his private "playroom". A pair of guards dragged her back to her cell and threw her in. This time, they didn't bother to restrain her fully against the wall. She was already cuffed, her body crumpled against the cobbled floor. Gradually she sat up, her shoulders weak, ever nerve in her arms on fire. She dared a glance down at her fingers and found that they were a hideous mangled mess of torn tissue, blood and bone.

She felt bile rise in her throat however she shook it off. A prickle rose up her spine and she felt completely broken. She collapsed against the wall, smacking her head against the unyielding stone, wishing that she could meld with it. Her vision blurred and she met unconsciousness.


End file.
